


Awake

by AEpixie7



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: -Voice of John Mulaney-, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I started this with every intention of keeping it a canon compliant relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, South Downs Cottage (kind of), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale, Yes THAT kind of happy ending, and then i didn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-02-29 16:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Ever since the averted apocalypse, Crowley has been trying to sleep but his nightmares won't let him. Like an idiot, he keeps that information from Aziraphale until it's actually caused him harm. Aziraphale realizes he hates when Crowley is in pain and he'll do anything to keep it from happening again. (E rating for second chapter, first is mature for violence)





	1. The Stuff of Nightmares

Aziraphale's foot tapped on the old floor of the bookshop, an irritated sigh sliding past his lips. It was typical for Crowley to be fashionably late for their lunch plans, but never _this_ late. He was over an hour late at this point. Aziraphale felt foolish for being so disappointed by that. True, they had agreed to meet up more regularly after the averted apocalypse, mostly because neither of them really knew what else to do. Did they continue to do their respective jobs? Tempting and thwarting in case either of their superiors ever made contact? Even though they hadn’t heard a peep from Above or Below in nearly six months, they both continued to perform the occasional miracle or temptation, so long as that particular miracle or temptation happened to occur on the way to the Ritz. After everything that Adam had said… it was appearing more and more likely that the freedom he had spoken of… it applied to Earth bound celestial beings as well. And for two beings who had been stuck in the same routine for six thousand years… that in itself was terrifying. 

Drinks with a very dear friend made it better. 

And so Aziraphale tossed his crossword puzzle angrily onto the side table next to his chair, huffing another sigh. Had he known Crowley was going to bail on their plans, he wouldn’t have closed down the shop and set aside the entire afternoon. He did have important cataloguing to do, after all. 

He shuffled into the back room and set to cataloguing anyway, though he couldn’t help the little nagging voice in his head. He wanted to be angry with Crowley, but the more time passed, all he could feel was worry. Crowley hadn’t been himself these last few months, to the point that Aziraphale had had to set up their lunch date for today after having not heard from him in weeks. This wasn’t like Crowley at all. 

When he realized Crowley was now 3 hours late, he pocketed his reading glasses and hurried from the shop. He walked briskly, his wings itching from the desire to unfurl them and fly hastily to Crowley's flat. Eventually he hailed a cab, because his feet weren’t carrying him fast enough. 

He hurried up the stairs to Crowley's flat, and when he burst through the door, his heart sank when he realized the place was pitch black and the plants looked very much in need of a good watering. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered, wringing his hands and venturing cautiously into the living room. The only sign that Crowley had even been here recently was an untouched cup of coffee on the table, which was lukewarm to the touch. 

“Crowley, my dear?” he said, louder this time, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. He stopped dead when he saw a form huddled against the wall in the hallway, his head tucked into his arms and his knees curled to his chest. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale rushed forward, dropping to his knees and resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Crowley raised his head slowly, his eyes unfocused. He didn’t seem to even know where he was or, more worryingly, who Aziraphale was. 

“Crowley, dear, are you alright?” he urged, shaking Crowley's shoulder gently and feeling his heart ache when Crowley's eyes remained dazed and far away. He blinked slowly, his slitted irises barely visible in the low light. 

“Angel?” he drawled, his voice slow and sluggish. 

“Crowley, it's me. What’s happened, are you alright? We were supposed to meet today, I’ve been worried sick.” 

“That was today?” Crowley asked, blinking slowly and trying to focus his eyes on the angel. “What… what day is it?” 

Aziraphale placed his other hand on Crowley's shoulder, holding him between his hands and trying to make him focus. He seemed delirious, as if he were drunk but… this was different. 

“Crowley you're scaring me.” 

That seemed to sober him up, but only slightly. His face twisted into a grimace, one of his hands slipping up to wrap around Aziraphale's wrist and hold on for dear life. 

“I can't sleep, angel. Can't sleep…” he said, gasping as his head collapsed back against the wall with a _thunk_. “I’m so tired, I just want to sleep but I can't…” he was rambling, not making any sense. He didn’t need to sleep, he just usually enjoyed it. If he was tired he could either sleep or just will himself awake. How could a lack of sleep be causing this? 

“Crowley, why can’t you sleep?” 

Crowley closed his eyes and gasped again, his hand tightening around Aziraphale’s wrist as he shook his head ' _no._ ’ Aziraphale reached out with his own aura, brushing Crowley's lightly. If he wasn’t going to talk to him, he'd find out on his own. 

Aziraphale choked at what he found. Crowley felt… fractured. His aura was scattered and heavy, and it buzzed as if charged with electricity. Something like this didn’t just happen. And unfortunately it was something immortals could only do to themselves. It would’ve been a slow and terrifying slip into madness, caused by consistent stress. He had noticed Crowley hadn’t seemed himself these past few months… it pained him to think he'd been like this for a while. 

Aziraphale didn’t even consider his next move. He scooped Crowley up into his arms, and miracled them both back to the bookshop. Physically willing himself anywhere was quite a large use of a miracle, and it tended to draw the attention of his superiors, though he wasn’t really concerned with them right now. He had never felt Crowley like this before and he was really starting to question whether a demon could discorporate from stress. What would Below do with him if they got a hold of him now? The thought sent a chill down his spine. 

He carried Crowley to the sofa near the fire, willing it to light itself and wrapping Crowley in a cocoon of blankets. He brought him a steaming cup of tea, though he discovered Crowley couldn’t keep hold of it as his hands shook. He pulled the little cup away from him and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rubbing his arm comfortingly. 

“Crowley… I wish you would’ve told me sooner this was happening, I could have helped you. Is this why you’ve been drawing back these last few months?” 

Crowley didn’t answer, instead keeping his face turned toward the fire. Aziraphale reached for him, and Crowley twitched away, but relented when the angel cupped his chin and turned him to face him. 

“Oh, my dear. You poor thing,” Aziraphale whispered when he saw Crowley's eyes more clearly in the firelight. The lines of his eyelashes were red and irritated, and beneath were dark purple shadows. Exhaustion wasn’t supposed to be in the realm of possibility for them, but at a certain point, they became unable to heal themselves if their energy was so dangerously depleted. 

“How long has this been going on, Crowley? And why, _why_ didn’t you come to me?” 

Crowley was quiet, and when he spoke his voice was so weak it was barely audible. 

“Since the whole thing went down. In Tadfield. Been trying to sleep and I… can’t.” 

“Crowley that was six months ago! This has been going on for six months and you’ve just been battling it on your own!? _Really_ my dear I would’ve thought that… everything we've been through together would have proved to you that you can rely on me. Whatever you need, I’ll always be there.” 

Strangely, Crowley winced. He pulled his jaw out of Aziraphale's hand and turned his face back toward the fire, though he wavered, too tired to even hold his head up anymore. He sank down in his blankets, pulling them tighter around himself and allowing his head to drift onto Aziraphale's shoulder. 

“I should be stronger than that,” Crowley muttered, his eyes fluttering closed and his breaths slowing slightly. 

Aziraphale chuckled, his hand reaching up without even thinking and coursing through Crowley's hair. The gesture was quite a bit more intimate than any contact they'd ever shared before, and Aziraphale was struck suddenly by the fact that it didn’t even feel unnatural. It felt like the only reasonable course of action in the present. Crowley didn’t seem to mind, anyway. He hummed softly and nuzzled against the angel's shoulder. 

“You are allowed not to be strong all the time, dear. I rather thought that’s what the whole Arrangement was for. I pick up the slack for you and vice versa. That continues even now. Even after… everything.” 

Crowley was silent once more, but seemed perfectly content to remain huddled against his angel, his breathing becoming slow and even as Aziraphale continued to run his hand absently through his hair. 

Aziraphale glanced down after a while and found Crowley sleeping, much to his relief. He picked him up once more, and carried him up the stairs to his flat above the bookshop, laying him gently on his unused bed. He pulled the covers up and tucked them around his shoulders, and didn’t think twice about leaning down and kissing his forehead softly. 

“Sleep, my dear. For as long as you need. You're safe here,” he whispered, before quietly closing the door. 

*** 

He busied himself with cataloguing those books he hadn’t finished, and allowed himself to get distracted reading a few of them. He retrieved the tea Crowley hadn’t touched and sipped it, settling in for the night near the fire. In truth he had only catalogued one book before wandering away. After all, he did have all eternity to get it done. 

His first clue that something was wrong was when he had to re-read the same paragraph three times and realized he still hadn’t retained any of what he'd read. Not something that happens to immortal minds. Slowly, though, he began to understand. His heart started racing, of its own accord, and he felt warm under his collar. He had never had a panic attack before, but he imagined this was what it would feel like. 

It took him a few minutes to realize that all of those feelings were coming from Crowley. 

Aziraphale knew he was capable of nightmares, just as he was capable of dreaming. He had spoken to Crowley at length once about his dreams, and his fascinating ability to control them if he chose. Similar to what humans called “lucid dreaming.” Aziraphale himself had only ever slept a handful of times, and he'd never made the effort to dream. Crowley had been less willing to discuss his ability to have nightmares. All he'd said was “those are harder to control.” 

Aziraphale stood from his spot on the sofa, folding his bookmark into his book and placing it on the coffee table. He waited for a moment, hoping Crowley's nightmare would pass and that he'd fall back into a peaceful slumber. But it didn’t. Aziraphale struggled to keep his own emotions in check, as the pulsing waves of terror emanated from the bedroom upstairs. He couldn’t help but wonder what could have Crowley in such a state, and he had to restrain the urge to glimpse into Crowley's subconscious and find out. While they were perfectly capable of reading the other’s thoughts, they had sworn as part of the Arrangement that they would never do that to each other. They only ever felt what the other naturally gave off as part of their auras. Aziraphale’s was comfort and contentment. Which was unfortunate for his bookshop's inventory as customers tended to linger around that inexplicable feeling. Crowley's aura was, well… anxiety, usually. 

He paced the rug in his back room, torn about what to do. If he rushed to wake Crowley, he would know he had been listening. But really, he wasn’t even listening, just picking up on Crowley's emotions as he dreamed. And they were horrifying. Pain, terror, loss, helplessness. No wonder Crowley was so exhausted if this was what he'd been going through every time he tried to sleep. 

Aziraphale didn’t mean to, but he began to pick up coherent thoughts accompanying those emotions. He hadn’t consciously pried into Crowley's mind, but the poor dear was dreaming so loudly that he couldn’t help but to hear it. 

_Please, don't. I beg you._

The voice was Crowley's and it was frantic. Distraught even. He was crying. 

_Take me. Please, not him. Don't hurt him, please. I'll endure whatever torture, whatever punishment you choose. For the rest of eternity, I will. Just please don't hurt him._

Aziraphale felt a drop in his chest, and a sting in his eyes. Crowley's screams grew louder in his subconscious, until it wasn't just in his dream anymore. From upstairs, in Aziraphale’s bedroom. Crowley was screaming. 

Aziraphale bolted from the room, practically flying up the stairs. He burst through the door and rushed to Crowley's side, shaking his shoulders and jolting him awake. Crowley sat bolt upright, immediately into Aziraphale's arms. He was whimpering and crying, and his entire body was shaking, covered in sweat. Aziraphale held him tight, his own tears pouring from his eyes at the rush of emotion in the room. He wasn’t sure if it was his or Crowley's. 

“Sshhhh, hush. Hush, now, it's alright. It was just a dream, my dear. You're alright.” 

Aziraphale held him to his chest, stroking his hair and rocking him gently. He wasn’t used to this level of closeness with anyone, especially his demonic counterpart, but it would have been cruel to leave him like this. 

“What was it dear? What did you see? In your dream?” 

Crowley sobbed, arms wrapped around Aziraphale's neck, and he tucked his face farther against the angel's shoulder. His breathing was quick and shallow, and his gasping seemed to only make his convulsing worse. 

“Alright, you don’t have to tell me, just breathe, okay? I know you don’t need to, but just focus on it. Easy, dear.” 

Crowley struggled to control his breathing, and even as it slowed, his aura was still rattling around in a panic. 

“Crowley, tell me about the last dream you had. The last good one. When was it?” he asked, trying to get him to focus on anything else. Crowley sniffed. 

“Before Tadfield,” he murmured weakly. 

“Good, and what happened in this dream? This good dream?” 

Crowley actually choked out a laugh, before sniffling again. 

“You don't want to know.” 

Aziraphale blushed bright red, and managed to emit a flustered “ _oh._ ” 

Crowley took a deep breath, and his shaking subsided ever so slightly. Aziraphale continued stroking his hair, and listened as his breathing evened out. Crowley was quiet for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and tentative. 

“They Felled you.” 

Aziraphale pulled back slightly. “What?” 

“In my dream. They Felled you. For what we did. We were both in Hell and… Satan…” he choked and Aziraphale held him tighter. 

“Oh, no, my dear, you don’t have to tell me, it's…” 

“He was tearing your wings off.” 

Aziraphale felt his blood chill, and couldn’t help envisioning such a horrid thing. 

“Well it was just a dream, after all.” 

“Was it?!” Crowley pulled back, his yellow eyes wide with panic. 

“How do I know it's not real? They used to deposit orders directly into my mind all the time! What if it's a promise? I don't ever have recurring dreams and I’ve been having this same one since Tadfield and I can’t shake it. What if he's really just showing me what happens when we take matters into our own hands. What he does to traitors like me? Make me watch while he…” 

He didn’t get the chance to finish his panicked tirade because Aziraphale unfurled his wings and pulled Crowley into his chest, wrapping his wings around him. Crowley sobbed, one hand reaching out and desperately gripping the soft down of his wings. 

“My dear it was only a dream. If they were going to Fell me for what I did, they would have done it already. Now stop this nonsense, you’re torturing yourself. You keep allowing this dream to happen because you’re scared and you won't admit it. We were both scared out there on that airfield but we were prepared to face it together. You needn't suffer this. Especially not alone.” 

Aziraphale pushed gently on Crowley's shoulder, guiding him to lay back on the bed, still cradled against his chest by his massive pearly wings, which naturally radiated ambient warmth. 

Crowley breathed deeply, turning his face to nuzzle into the feathers of Aziraphale's wings. 

“Now you get some rest. I'll have tea made for you whenever you're ready,” Aziraphale said, and shifted to remove himself from the bed. 

Crowley's hand shot out and latched onto his shirt sleeve, clinging to it. 

“Please… don’t go. _Please,_ ” the last word came out so weak and ashamed, and Aziraphale's heart broke. 

“You want me to stay? While you sleep?” he asked, and Crowley fidgeted, unable to speak an answer. 

“Alright my dear,” he whispered, laying down on the bed next to Crowley and using his wings to pull him into his chest once more. 

“But if I feel even a hint of pain… if you so much as stub your toe in your dream, I’m putting a stop to it,” Aziraphale whispered, grazing Crowley's cheek with the back of his hand and pouring warmth and comfort from his own aura into him. Crowley gasped from the overwhelming relief, and within seconds he was once again fast asleep. 

Dread creeped into Aziraphale's subconscious, even as he tried to keep his own emotions comforting, in case there was any transference. What if Crowley was right? What if it wasn’t a dream at all? What if Satan was actually communicating with Crowley through his dreams and showing him what was in store for him if he ever returned Below. His dread turned to anger in a heartbeat. How impossibly cruel to do such a thing. No wonder Crowley was such a mess, never knowing if what he was seeing when he slept was real. 

Aziraphale hated what he was doing, but he recoiled his soothing aura from Crowley and allowed his nightmare to return. Aziraphale inserted his own subconscious into the dream, and was immediately jolted by searing pain in his wings. He glanced over his shoulder, and through the tears in his eyes, saw the face of Lucifer himself, as his claws sank into the feathers and flesh of his wings. He could hear Crowley screaming, and found him on his knees, his arms and wings held fast by several other demons. Demons who were not being gentle. 

Aziraphale tried to focus on his plan, but Crowley was right. The pain and anguish of the nightmare made it hard to concentrate, to control anything. Crowley's screams gave him strength though. _He will never scream like this again, if I have anything to say about it._

Aziraphale cried out as he thrust his wings forward, yanking them roughly away from Satan's claws and tearing them apart in the process. He fell to his hands and knees, momentarily disoriented by the pain. Crowley's screams were silenced by one of the demons as the creature sank its claws into his throat. Crowley's tears streaming down his face focused Aziraphale's resolve, and he stood, turning to face Satan even as his flayed wings dragged the ground. 

“I don’t know if this is real, or if Crowley's just imagined this horror on his own and now he can’t escape it. But in the off chance that this _is_ really you, communicating with him…” 

Aziraphale’s wings glowed so brightly as they healed themselves that every single demon restraining Crowley was instantly smited, their bodies turning to a fine black dust and collecting on the ground all around him. Even Satan himself winced from the Heavenly light. 

“We're not alone anymore. We've got friends. Your _son_ , actually. I should think he’d not be pleased with how much meddling you’ve been up to,” Aziraphale growled, approaching Crowley and pulling him to his feet so he could lean on him. 

“Now if this wasn’t abundantly clear…” Aziraphale adjusted Crowley in his grasp, enough to free one hand and toss a middle finger in Satan's direction. 

The Devil howled with rage, charging forward, but before he could reach Aziraphale, their surroundings vanished with one heavy thrust of his wings. Aziraphale wiped the nightmare from existence, and allowed Crowley's subconscious to choose a destination. This was _his_ dream, after all. 

He blinked against blinding sunlight, his eyes adjusting in front of a beautiful pair of French doors. Aziraphale didn’t recognize this place, but he already loved it. Something about it reminded him of his bookshop, but also of Crowley's flat. The scent of old wooden shelves and of lush green plants. It felt like _home_. 

He jumped slightly as Crowley's arms wrapped around his waist, his chin on the angel’s shoulder. There was no mistaking the intimacy of the gesture. It was confident and intentional. _Crowley_ was confident and intentional. Aziraphale blushed, but loved the way Crowley tipped his head to the side and breathed in the angel’s scent. 

“Is this what you dream about, then? When it’s a good dream?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley stiffened, suddenly realizing that the angel in his dream was not a dream at all. 

“Yes,” he said sheepishly, though he did not remove his arms from Aziraphale’s waist. 

“It’s… quite lovely. A little cottage. A library here for me, a garden for you…” Aziraphale observed the quaint little space, feeling Crowley remain rigid against his back. 

“Thank you…” Crowley whispered, his voice quietly vulnerable. “For what you did.” 

Aziraphale patted Crowley's hand where it rested over his belly. “Of course my dear.” 

They were both quiet for a long while, listening to the breeze blow gently through the garden and breathing in the fragrance from the herbs and flowers. Aziraphale knew he should’ve felt motivated to say something about their newfound intimacy, but if this was where Crowley felt comfortable enough to embrace him in a way they had never done before, who was he to take that away? Besides… it did feel rather… _wonderful._

“You don't have to stay, angel,” Crowley murmured against his shoulder, and Aziraphale could hear the remorse in his voice. “I know this isn’t your thing. Sleeping. Dreaming.” 

He began to pull away reluctantly, and Aziraphale caught his arms, pulling them back around him and swaying comfortably in Crowley's embrace. 

“No my dear I… think I might… like to stay…” he stuttered, unable to keep himself from blushing and feeling quite embarrassed about it, even though Crowley couldn’t see his face. 

Crowley didn’t say anything for an uncomfortably long amount of time, until his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around his angel. 

“Well… then I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my dream from ending up… where it usually does…” Crowley said, tucking his face into the back of Aziraphale’s neck, his little sigh making his skin tingle. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “Then don't try.”


	2. What Dreams Are Made Of

“What did you say?” Crowley gasped, unraveling his arms from around Aziraphale and taking a small step back. Aziraphale turned, saddened by the shock in Crowley's yellow eyes. 

“I said… I don’t think… I want you to. Restrain yourself, I mean.” 

Crowley stood frozen, and he had forgotten to breathe. His eyes darted between Aziraphale's, searching for any hint of mirth. “You're mocking me.” 

Aziraphale averted his gaze to the ground, taking one small step toward Crowley until their bodies were once again so close Crowley could feel the warmth radiating from his angel. 

“Crowley, I've been thinking about this for a very long time. For the last six months, actually. Longer, if I'm being honest with myself.” 

Crowley swallowed, his tongue flicking out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “You… have?” 

“Yes. So don’t think I’m taking this lightly,” he said with conviction, once again meeting Crowley's eyes and slowly bringing his hand up to cup the demon's cheek. He caressed his hand back through Crowley's hair and around his ear, back down to trace the line of his jaw with his fingertips, the pad of his thumb outlining Crowley's bottom lip, which had apparently started trembling. 

“I should like… to kiss you,” he whispered, and Crowley answered instantly, his voice quaking. 

“Angel I might discorporate if you don't,” he said, voice catching when Aziraphale leaned in, pressing their lips together so tenderly that Crowley squeaked into the kiss, his knees nearly giving out. 

Aziraphale pulled back, his pupils big and round and circled by a stream of blue, his hand still resting gently on the side of Crowley's neck as his thumb absently caressed the sensitive patch of skin beneath his ear. The poor dear was quivering all over, and he seemed unable to move or speak. 

“Crowley… say something…” 

He did not respond, but took a hurried step forward and locked their lips together, much more roughly than the first time, and his hands clutched the fabric of Aziraphale’s coat at his sides. Aziraphale was taken off guard by how powerful the kiss was, but as Crowley moved his lips and tongue, so dexterously, he returned the kiss with increasing fervor. Crowley backed Aziraphale toward a small sitting area, his hands hurriedly relieving the angel of his bowtie, and when the backs of his knees hit the sofa, he allowed himself to fall back onto it and take the demon with him. Crowley moved his kisses along Aziraphale’s jaw, leaving a sloppy trail down his neck to his collarbone, his hands pulling his shirt open, popping the buttons and tearing it in a few places. Aziraphale was about to protest such rough treatment of his wardrobe, even if it was only a dream, but Crowley rolled his hips urgently, causing a very insistent protuberance to grind against the angel's thick thigh. Both of them sighed heavily, and Aziraphale cleared his throat as his vision grew soft at the edges and his head swam. He had been aware that Crowley's fondness for him had grown into the realm of desire somewhere around the 7th century, but until now, Aziraphale had never felt it. Yes, he mildly wondered and considered the logistics, but he'd never _felt_ it. Crowley groaned as he felt his angel's body responding in kind, his hand reaching between them to cup the new appendage. 

“ _Effortless,_ ” he gasped, removing his hand and grinding his crotch against the angel's, Crowley growling and Aziraphale yelping in surprise. Surprise at just how _good_ it felt. 

“Crowley dear, what do you want?” Aziraphale panted, unable to keep himself from rolling his hips upward and reveling in the choked little sound Crowley made into his neck. 

“No, bugger that. We always do what _I_ want in my dreams. Now that you're here, it's really _you_... I want to know what _you_ want,” Crowley half begged, his hips moving consistently against him and sending increasing waves of desire over him. His hands slithered beneath Crowley's jacket, finding the bottom of his soft cotton t-shirt and slipping his fingertips beneath to dance over his skin, around to his lower back. Crowley whimpered, grinding against him _hard_ as Aziraphale's hands glided over his jeans to roughly grip his ass. 

“Dear, I'm not quite sure what I want. I've… never done this before, as I'm sure you’re aware.” 

Crowley let out a carnal growl, biting down on the meat of Aziraphale's shoulder and then using his strange tongue to lick over the bite mark, making Aziraphale shudder. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep talking like that, angel.” 

Aziraphale choked out a laugh. “What, reminding you how laughably inexperienced I am?” 

Crowley pulled back, looking deep into Aziraphale’s eyes before planting an open-mouthed kiss on his lips, his tongue seeking permission and his breath hot when the angel relented. 

Crowley pulled himself away from Aziraphale’s mouth, once again burying his face in the crook of his neck. “Reminding me that I'm about to deflower my virgin angel. _God_ I could come right now just thinking about it.” 

Aziraphale blushed, instantly mortified by the sentiment that seemed to circumvent his brain entirely and bumble out his lips. “Yes, you’re a wicked, _wicked_ tempter.” 

Crowley whined helplessly, a hand desperately finding its way into Aziraphale’s hair and his hips halting their incessant grinding as he shook from the effort of restraining his orgasm. 

_Well then._ Certainly _not_ the reaction he'd anticipated from that statement. _Note to self- Crowley gets off on being told how bad he is._

Aziraphale pulled his hands away from their position on Crowley's ass, absently miracling the demon’s belt buckle and zipper unfastened, one plump hand sliding in beneath the trousers to palm over top of the cotton pants, instantly feeling moisture soaking through. 

Crowley yelped unexpectedly, a hand shooting out and grasping Aziraphale’s wrist, _hard._

“ _Aziraphale stop,_ ” Crowley pleaded, and Aziraphale was surprised to feel wetness against his cheek. Crowley's tears. 

“I want to wake up. I want this to be _real._ I need to _know_ it is. I want to feel your hands, your _real_ hands on me. _Please._ I can’t do this again, I can’t wake up and realize it wasn't real _please angel._ ” 

Aziraphale felt equal parts heartbreak and terror. The desperation in Crowley's voice, and the gravity of what he'd said- that he'd woken up from countless dreams exactly like this one, only to find himself alone. And yet, he couldn’t help the creeping sense of dread. Becoming intimate with Crowley in his dream was one thing. Doing it in the waking world held the weight of his soul. He could Fall for lust. 

Somehow he knew he wouldn’t Fall. Feeling Crowley clinging to him like this, shaking with his need to be closer… all he could feel was overwhelming _love_ for this creature. His beloved demon. 

“Alright, my dear. I understand. I'm going to wake up, okay?” he said, Crowley hovering over him as his eyes shined with fresh tears. He pressed a quick kiss to Aziraphale's lips with an almost silent whimper, and Aziraphale felt a pain in his chest as he realized that Crowley was convinced he'd wake up alone again. 

Blue eyes met yellow in the faint glow of moonlight shining through the window of Aziraphale's bedroom. The white light glinted off the tears that Crowley had been weeping in his sleep, his serpentine eyes wide with panic. 

Aziraphale found his wings still wrapped around Crowley, and huddled him closer, delicately kissing away the tears from his cheek. Crowley gasped with relief, his hands seeking out Aziraphale's sides shakily. Aziraphale rolled forward, unwrapping his wings and allowing them to stretch out behind him, his hands sliding Crowley's arms above his head and pinning his wrists to the pillow. He rolled his hips at the same time, an urgent kiss coaxing Crowley's tongue to dance with his, and the demon all but cried into the kiss. Aziraphale leaned back slightly, adjusting his thighs on either side of Crowley's hips as he grinded against him again, still pinning his arms above him. Crowley threw his head back against the pillow with a _hissss_ , and Aziraphale felt an insatiable hunger growling deep in his belly at the sound. He pulled his wings against his back, preparing to immaterialize them, but Crowley choked out a breathless “ _don’t,_ ” making Aziraphale hesitate. 

“Leave them out. Please, angel. You look…” he gasped shakily, rolling his hips upward as another involuntary tear rolled quietly past his temple and into his hair. “Holy hell you look _beautiful._ ” 

Aziraphale blushed, smiling down at the vision beneath him. How could he, the pudgy, fussy, insufferable bookworm, be described as beautiful? When Crowley was so marvelously disheveled, weeping from the rush of sensation and love washing over him? Of the two of them, Aziraphale knew which one was more beautiful. But if Crowley wanted his wings, he wasn’t prepared to deny his lover anything. 

_Lover_. Oh what a lovely word for Crowley. 

“Very well dear,” Aziraphale smiled, spreading his wings to their full wingspan, the moonlight practically glittering among the iridescent white feathers. Crowley nearly sobbed, digging his heels into the bed and grinding roughly up against Aziraphale's rear, causing him to tip forward and press Crowley's wrists hard down into the pillow. Aziraphale chuckled at him, taking his lower lip between his lips before adding a hint of teeth. 

All of their clothes vanished in an instant. Neither could be sure who was responsible, and neither really cared. 

“Aziraphale…” Crowley panted as he trailed little kisses along his jaw before stopping to nibble at his neck. Crowley trembled beneath him. 

“How do you, er… which way would be… more um, comfortable…” Crowley stammered, and Aziraphale released his wrists, leaning back on his heels, though the new angle had Crowley's erection planted firmly between his ass cheeks, and he had to close his eyes and force out a breath to keep his wits about him. Aziraphale chuckled again, his fingertips trailing down Crowley's torso and making him jerk with a quiet “ _fuck_ ” under his breath. 

“I think, I'd rather not top you, not this time at least. Not until I’m… more experienced…” he said, his fingers still drawing abstract shapes over Crowley's ab muscles, loving the way they quivered and twitched under his touch. 

Crowley blinked through a haze of lust, tilting his head curiously. “How do you know… what ' _top_ ' means?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale smiled wider. 

“I'm a virgin, dear, not an idiot.” 

Crowley laughed awkwardly, his hands gently rubbing Aziraphale's thighs. “Yeah, sure, angel. I knew that. Sorry.” He blushed. Actually _blushed_. 

Aziraphale beamed, gliding his hands up to rest on Crowley's shoulders as he wiggled his bum against his throbbing erection. Crowley bit his lip and clamped his eyes shut, his fingernails dragging down Aziraphale's thighs. 

“If I'm not inside you in the next few minutes I am seriously going to die. Discorporate. Fuck. Whatever. _Aziraphale,_ ” he moaned his name so desperately that Aziraphale could see the hair on his arms prickling and his skin turning to goosebumps. 

“Show me what you need,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley winced as he thrust his hips up gently, his cock sliding between the angel's cheeks, smearing precum over the smooth, round flesh. “You’re going to have to guide me a bit, dear. I’ve never done this before. You have.” 

“Not as often as I've led you to believe,” Crowley choked, eyes still clamped shut as Aziraphale lifted himself up on his knees, grasping Crowley's wrist and guiding his hand between his legs. “You have to… get me ready… yes?” 

“Don’t… _have_ to. You could just… decide to _be_ ready, if you wanted,” his last word broke off into a squeak, as Aziraphale guided his fingertips to his entrance. 

“Well that doesn't sound like any fun,” Aziraphale said, watching as Crowley glanced with fascination to where Aziraphale held his hand, poised beneath him. “Let’s try it this way, shall we?” Aziraphale asked gently, and Crowley nodded shakily. 

“Dear, are you… nervous?” 

“Terrified.” 

“Don’t be. I want this. I do. _Crowley_ …” he groaned his lover’s name as he allowed himself to be penetrated, tipping his hips forward and back shallowly, riding Crowley's fingers- one at first, then two, then gasping and grunting at the insertion of a third. His hand shot toward his own cock, but Crowley swatted him away with a “ _tssss._ ” 

“Your pleasure is none of your concern. It's mine. _Mine, angel,_ ” Crowley groaned as he used his own hips to thrust up against his hand, in turn pushing Aziraphale's surprisingly thick cock into his other hand, gripping him and using his thumb to spread his precum over the cock head. 

Aziraphale bucked hard, and Crowley glanced up to find his face contorting in the most beautiful grimace of ecstasy, his mouth hanging open, lips begging to be bitten. 

“Angel,” Crowley whimpered, removing his fingers and positioning his cock beneath Aziraphale. He didn’t even get the chance to make sure he was ready, because the angel sank down onto him, completely swallowing him up, and they both cried out in unison, Aziraphale's hands bracing himself on Crowley's chest and Crowley's hands clawing at his angel's thighs. 

Crowley's eyes slammed shut once more, tears gathering at the corners, as he gasped and panted. 

“Angel I'm… not gonna… last long _fuck_ you feel so good…” 

“Don’t fret, dear, I wouldn't know what long _is,_ ” Aziraphale said breathlessly, before he started to move torturously slowly, earning another cry from both of them. Crowley couldn’t contain himself any longer, and grasped Aziraphale’s hips hard, holding him steady as he began thrusting up into him mercilessly. Aziraphale's head rolled forward, his thighs beginning to shake as they clenched against Crowley's sides. 

“Oh _jesus,_ ” Crowley snarled, hips pumping faster, harder, faster. Aziraphale had to catch himself against the headboard, both hands gripping it, white knuckled, as he moaned and cried constantly. 

“Crowley…” he began to plead, but for what, he didn’t know. Something was enveloping him, making his ears ring and his fingertips numb. It was terrifying, excruciating even, but in the best way, and he wanted to make it stop but at the same time _beg for more_. Crowley's hand around his cock was quick and steady, and every time Aziraphale tried to jolt his hips back away from his unrelenting grasp, all he managed to do was force himself roughly back against Crowley's cock and… 

“ _Oh Christ, Crowley! Right there! Don't stop!_ ” Aziraphale cried, something within him alight like holy fire. 

Crowley pushed himself urgently up onto an elbow, one hand roughly grasping the back of Aziraphale's neck and pulling him down for a needy kiss, grunting into Aziraphale's mouth before pulling slightly away, resting his forehead against the angel’s as his jaw hung open in a silent scream, his hips pumping hard once, twice, and coming for what felt like _days_. 

Aziraphale clenched around him, overwhelmed by how beautiful he was just then. Crowley was clearly overstimulated, and Aziraphale’s clenching made it worse, though those broken, high-pitched little noises the demon made were enough to send him reeling, his own release slinging out over Crowley's hand and onto his stomach with a pitiful cry. 

Crowley collapsed back onto the bed, and Aziraphale had to steady himself once again against the headboard, his chest heaving. His wings shuddered heavily, the feathers creating a soft rustling sound, and Crowley's body seemed to convulse from the sight. Aziraphale smiled, leaning down to kiss his lips tenderly. 

“Angel are you… alright?” Crowley gasped, eyes wide and lips red from rough kisses. 

“Of course dear. More than alright, I'm…” he laughed, his brain unable to function properly just yet. The only thing he could do to convey how he felt, without words, was another soft kiss. Crowley hummed into the kiss, his hands caressing Aziraphale’s thighs, until the angel pulled back and gently removed himself, miracling away their mess. He collapsed onto the bed next to Crowley, his wing knocking a lamp off the bedside table as he uttered a flustered “oops.” 

He wrapped an arm around Crowley's abdomen, scooting closer to his side and kissing his angular shoulder. After a few lazy kisses over his cool flesh, Aziraphale stopped, realizing Crowley was shivering. 

“My dear you're trembling, are you cold?” 

Crowley shook his head ' _no,_ ' but weakly motioned behind Aziraphale. “Wing,” he mumbled, and Aziraphale smiled, turning slightly to lay on his side and drape his wing over Crowley, loving the way his face flushed instantly and he turned toward his angel, cuddling up underneath the radiant feathers. He took a deep breath, eyes closed, and Aziraphale simply _adored_ him. 

“Are _you_ alright, dear?” he asked, kissing the tip of Crowley's nose. He recoiled slightly, suddenly very snakelike, and coiled himself tightly beneath Aziraphale’s wing, tucking his face against the angel's chest. “No,” he mumbled, childlike. 

“And why is that?” Aziraphale cooed, fingertips finding Crowley's hair and coursing through it, Crowley's shivering momentarily increased. 

“I’ve wanted this… dreamt about it, for thousands of years, and now it's happened and I… it was everything I’ve ever imagined, better even. _You're_ everything I’ve dreamt of, Aziraphale. I don't know… how to feel this. It's strange, I…” 

“My dear, you're happy. I can feel it. It's radiating off of you, my God. And here I thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful.” 

Crowley groaned, his happiness glowing even brighter as he blushed, attempting to cuddle even closer into Aziraphale's chest and hide his face. Aziraphale giggled, wrapping his arms around Crowley and hugging him tightly with his wing as he kissed his forehead. 

“Crowley that place… in your dream. What was it?” he asked absently, thinking back on the warm breeze and beautiful Earth surrounding it. Crowley remained huddled into his angel's chest, his voice muffled when he spoke. 

“’Dunno. It kind of… popped up one day and… ever since then, it’s been where I go. When I need… comfort.” 

“It was charming, dear. A little cottage. We should… we should find a place like that. You know… for real.” 

Crowley's shivering stopped, and he pulled back, eyes glistening again. “You… mean that?” 

“Well, naturally I'd keep the bookshop. You could keep your place, but… it'd be nice, don’t you think? To get away from London every once in a while? Away from… people.” 

“Just… you and me?” Crowley asked, and his chin began quivering. Aziraphale could feel his joy pulsing from him with such strength that a single warm tear rolled down the angel's cheek. 

“Yes, my dear. You and me. It could be… our own little paradise.” 

Crowley tucked his face into Aziraphale's chest just in time to fail gloriously at hiding the gasp that seized his lungs. “Yeah angel. That'd be… nice,” he managed. 

Aziraphale chuckled, his hand absently rubbing Crowley's back as his breathing slowed and he wavered on the edge of sleep. 

“My dear did I… flip The Devil the bird?” 

Crowley snorted. “You totally did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving the chapter number as a question mark because I may continue this, whenever the mood strikes me to deposit some smut to you lovelies. Might continue, might not. Let me know what you think *insert smiling demon emoji*


	3. You're Not Dreaming Anymore

Aziraphale let Crowley sleep, and didn’t dare try to remove himself from the bed. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to risk waking Crowley, but mostly it was because he was genuinely enjoying just lying in bed with him. Watching his eyelids flutter, listening to the little sounds he made in his sleep. An almost imperceptible groan, a whimper that might've been a word. He didn’t intrude on his dreams this time, but kept his aura tightly pressed against Crowley's, waiting for any sign of pain. For the most part Crowley remained blissfully peaceful, except for once, when that same nightmare tried to poison his dreams once more. Aziraphale didn’t enter the dream- simply pulled Crowley tightly against him, wrapping his wings tighter around him and pouring warmth and comfort from his own angelic aura into him until he stilled and snuggled quietly closer. Aziraphale's heart swelled as he felt Crowley's heart beating so close to his own. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was distantly aware that the sunlight had poured in and retreated from his window several times. He miracled a sign onto the front door of the shop by sheer force of will, which read “Closed due to unforeseen circumstances.” He considered adding “sorry for the inconvenience” but that would've been a lie and he wasn’t much for dishonesty. 

When Crowley finally blinked awake, Aziraphale was surprised at the joy his bright yellow eyes sparked in him. He wondered if Crowley would have slept so long during the 1800s if he'd known Aziraphale would be there waiting when he woke up. 

“Good morning dear,” Aziraphale whispered, stroking his fingertips through Crowley’s hair and adoring the satisfied sigh it earned. 

“Mmmm g’morning, angel,” Crowley mumbled, his voice gravelly from sleep. “How long did I sleep?” 

“A few days.” 

Crowley's eyes shot open and he shoved himself out of Aziraphale's arms and scooted away to crouch on the far side of the bed, much to the angel's dismay. 

“A few _days?!_ ” 

“You needed it, my dear. I don’t think you realize how weak you were. I've never felt your aura flicker the way it did that night I found you.” 

“Ssssorry, angel, I didn’t mean to sleep that long…” Crowley said sheepishly, his slitted eyes avoiding Aziraphale’s as he rubbed his own upper arm self-consciously, only just realizing they were both still naked. Aziraphale crawled over to him and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I don’t mind in the least, dear.” 

“You didn’t stay with me… that whole time… did you?” 

“Of course.” 

“ _Angel,_ ” Crowley groaned, and Aziraphale chuckled at him, reaching over and pulling him into his arms and back down to lay in the bed, his wings tucking against his back and vanishing into nonexistence. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Crowley mumbled against his chest. 

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to. I couldn’t… I didn’t want… well you see my dear I didn’t think I could stand to hear you scream like that, ever again. Even if I were to fly up those stairs as quickly as I could, it still… well it pained me, Crowley. Physically pained me to see you like that.” 

Crowley was quiet for a while, his fingers absently caressing the sparse blonde hair of Aziraphale's chest. “I forgot. You’re an angel. You have an aversion to other people's pain.” 

“More so when it's yours, dear,” Aziraphale said, his voice cracking a bit from the admission. This newfound intimacy with Crowley had apparently dismantled the flood gates of his long bottled-up truths. Only now did he realize just how much he had been denying about himself and his deep-rooted love for this demon. 

Crowley tilted his head up for a kiss, chaste at first, but slowly growing hungrier. His long, slender body stretched out and pressed against Aziraphale's front, one of his hands slithering up the angel's chest to wrap around his neck and claim and fistful of his hair. Crowley sighed into the kiss, pulling away just enough to utter heated words. 

“I still can't believe this is real. It has to be a dream, has to be…” he whimpered, Aziraphale's warm hands pressed against his lower back making him writhe closer to the angel, his half-hard cock sliding up between those plump thighs he loved so much. “This is real, I assure you,” Aziraphale whispered, his hands venturing lower down Crowley's back to gently squeeze both arse cheeks. Crowley rolled his hips forward and shuddered, a quiet whine sending jitters all through the angel's extremities and settling somewhere at the extreme lower region of his abdomen. 

“You know my dear… you have a wonderful, erm, bum,” Aziraphale dithered, and Crowley laughed, tucking his head under the angel's chin. 

“Oh be still my heart, you talk dirty,” Crowley taunted, and Aziraphale lifted one hand to gently tap one of Crowley's arse cheeks. “Don’t poke fun, dear, it's not nice. You know I’m not… very experienced, I'm doing my best and I'd appreciate a bit of… Crowley?” he stopped as he realized Crowley had gone deathly still, and his heartbeat was so heavy that Aziraphale could feel it against his skin. 

“Do that again,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale could feel his cock, now helplessly hard, pressing between his thighs and smearing them with precum. 

“Do what? I don’t understand.” 

Crowley reached down and wrapped a hand around Aziraphale’s wrist, pushing his hand back down toward his arse. 

“You hit me,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale felt instantly insulted. 

“I did no such thing! It was a little tap, I merely…” 

“ _Do it again. **Please.** Harder,_” Crowley's voice was a pitiful mix of desperation and embarrassment, and he rolled his hips again, this time sliding his cock between Aziraphale's thighs and clawing at whatever skin he could find- which happened to be the angel's love handle. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Aziraphale stuttered, not wanting to hurt Crowley but utterly amazed at the _need_ in the demon's voice. 

“Like… this?” Aziraphale asked, tapping Crowley's arse once more, barely harder than the first time. Crowley whined, his hand clawing at Aziraphale’s side as he pulled his hips slightly back and thrust his cock between the angel's thighs. 

“ _Harder_ Aziraphale _please,_ ” Crowley begged. 

“Dear, didn’t you just acknowledge my distaste for pain, especially when it comes to you? I don’t want to hurt you…” 

“You won't, just _please angel, please, please,_ ” his words trailed off as his pleas became unbearable, his hips pumping rhythmically as Aziraphale felt the inexplicable desire to clench his thighs together, nearly making Crowley sob when he thrust his cock between them. Aziraphale didn't want to do it, but he raised his hand quite a bit farther back and brought it down with a hearty _smack_ against Crowley's arse. 

Crowley cried out, his hips thrusting hard and his cock so solid between Aziraphale’s thighs. 

“Good?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley tipped his head up to steal an open-mouthed kiss, pulling away to mutter breathlessly ' _again_ ' before attacking the angel's lips, his teeth pulling at his lower lip. 

Aziraphale grew more confident, simply from the reactions he was receiving from the demon. He himself was so hopelessly turned on that he couldn’t help but fulfill Crowley's every desire, even if it went against his angelic nature. _Oh_ how Crowley begged and pleaded for it, he couldn’t help but to acquiesce. 

He smacked him good this time, and Crowley's hands clutched at his arms, a cry escaping his lips. “Next time I'm gonna come…” Crowley panted, and Aziraphale was shocked at himself that he had the confidence to smile cheekily, before delicately rubbing a hand over the red, burning arse cheek he'd been abusing. So _tender_ , so _gentle._

Crowley hissed, his cock planted firmly between Aziraphale's upper thighs, leaking precum but aching, _so close_ , on the precipice. 

“ _Azsssssss… angel… please…_ ” 

Aziraphale continued for a bit longer, allowing his soft, manicured hands to roam the warm skin, enjoying every little twitch and tremble that his gentleness earned, before winding up and smacking, then latching on _tightly_ to that perfectly round and supple arse cheek. 

Crowley thrust his hips forward, his cock buried so tightly between Aziraphale’s thighs and then he was _coming_ , his breaths caught between cries and whimpers, his hips jolting erratically as he spent himself all over Aziraphale's pretty pale legs. 

Crowley gasped against Aziraphale's chest as he rocked slowly, riding out the aftershocks and dying for the feel of his cock so slick between the angel's thighs. As soon as he recovered a bit of himself, he pushed up onto his arms and planted a sloppy kiss on Aziraphale's lips, climbing over him and carefully marking the evidence of a job left unfinished. 

“You’re so good to me, angel. I know you didn’t want to do that but you did it anyway. Because I asked you to. Now I’m going to be good to you…” 

Aziraphale chuckled, but squirmed beneath Crowley as he hovered over him, markedly denying him any skin contact. 

“Oh but my dear, you're a demon,” he teased with a mischievous grin. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be good.” 

“Oh you want me to be bad? You want me to do wicked things to you?” 

“That’s… what you do. Isn't it?” Aziraphale attempted this “dirty talk” that Crowley had teased him about earlier, this time apparently succeeding because the slits of Crowley's eyes dilated visibly. 

“Yesssss, angel. I’m sssssuch a bad, bad boy,” he cooed, slithering lower down Aziraphale's body and planting torturously soft kisses along his collarbone. He moved to press his kisses over his chest, pausing to flick his strange tongue over a nipple and glancing back up just in time to see Aziraphale's eyelashes flutter as he forced out a breath, both his hands reaching out and settling on the back of Crowley's neck. He didn’t push him lower, but kept his hands resting heavily on the back of Crowley's neck as he rolled his hips shallowly, a bit of precum beading at the tip of his pleading cock. 

“You know angel, you said I have a nice arse…” Crowley glanced down to admire Aziraphale's cock. It was much like the angel- plump and not overly tall, blushing pink under his scrutiny. He dragged a delicate finger along the underside of the shaft, allowing some of the angel's precum to ooze onto his finger and admiring the way the member twitched from such light contact. He brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it, glancing back up to find Aziraphale watching him with lustful fascination. 

“Well I think you have a marvelous cock. So _mouthwatering…_ ” Crowley sighed, leaning down and licking from the base to the tip, encircling the head with that talented tongue. Aziraphale let loose the most unangelic moan, and his hands did press down against the back of Crowley's neck, pleading for more. Crowley pulled back, denying the angel what he wanted. 

“Is that… something that’s enjoyable? For you I mean?” Aziraphale blubbered, his eyes meeting Crowley's and his thighs beginning to tremble from that _wicked_ grin on the demon's lips. 

“’Dunno. Never had an angel's cock in my mouth before. Would you like me to find out?” 

Aziraphale didn’t like admitting to his own lust, out loud anyway, and so he hesitated, his eyes darting between Crowley's lips, so succulent, so _close_ to his throbbing cock but yet so far. 

“I… well… I should think…” 

“Come on angel. _Say it._ I'm not gonna do it unless you ask me to.” 

“Foul beast.” 

“ _Yesssss,_ ” Crowley hissed, glancing down and blowing a puff of air at the angel's cock, delighted to see it bounce from the unexpected rush of pleasure. 

“Oh Crowley _please._ ” 

“Please _what?_ ” 

“Your… your mouth. I want… _please…_ ” 

Close enough. 

Crowley plunged the angel's cock into his mouth, until the head hit the back of his throat, and even then he took it just a bit further, his throat closing involuntarily, threatening a gag. Aziraphale cried out, both his hands clenching into Crowley's hair as he tried desperately not to thrust up into his mouth. 

“ _Oh! Oh d-dear,_ ” Aziraphale whimpered, his legs twitching on either side of Crowley's head as the demon pulled back slowly, sucking his cheeks in around him and allowing the head to fall out of his mouth with a _pop._

“Good?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale looked absolutely _tormented_. 

“Y-yes. Crowley, dear, don't… _don't stop,_ ” Aziraphale looked on the verge of tears, his legs really shaking now. Crowley chuckled, his hands sliding up both Aziraphale’s thighs, feeling them slick from his own cum that remained there. He took Aziraphale’s balls in one hand, gently rolling them and massaging them as he sunk the angel's cock back into his mouth, earnestly working him with his lips and tongue. 

Aziraphale bucked into his mouth, the motion erratic as he tried to control himself, his moans constant and pleading, turning to a cry as Crowley prodded at his entrance with a fingertip. He penetrated him slowly, locating the prostate and rubbing his fingertip against it as he used his forked tongue to flick over the head of his cock. 

“ _Oh!_ C-Crowley, dear, I…” his words were cut off by a gasp, accompanied by a quick thrust of his hips and a clench around Crowley's finger. 

“You’re close,” Crowley observed, once again sucking Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth, his one free hand aiding in stroking him, below his mouth, his own saliva covering Aziraphale's cock and making it slide so easily in and out of his mouth. 

He bobbed his head quickly, and when he felt Aziraphale’s stomach muscles contract and his insides clench, he forced him entirely to the back of his throat, swallowing around the warm spurts of cum. 

“Oh dear. _Oh Christ!_ ” Aziraphale shouted, holding Crowley's head down around his cock as he came, but immediately releasing him and falling limp back onto the bed. Crowley leaned back on his heels, admiring the angel, spent and euphoric before him, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He hummed in his throat, a chuckle following. 

“Well what do you know? I really _like_ having an angel's cock in my mouth,” he said, crawling up Aziraphale's body and tucking himself close beside him. Aziraphale was incapable of speech just yet, and settled on reaching up and combing his fingers through Crowley's hair. 

“And angel… you blaspheme when you come. That’s so _hot._ ” 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing himself, to which Crowley outright laughed. 

“Angel, of all the naughty things you've done this morning, I think saying the word ' _Christ_ ' is the least of your worries.”


End file.
